


At the edge of your vision

by zetsubooty



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Victor has ideas, that are completely motivated out of the goodness of his heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubooty/pseuds/zetsubooty
Summary: Set just before Yuuri's free skate in Beijing. Victor notices he's not sleeping and has a suggestion to help him relax. It doesn't entirely distract Yuuri from the complicated mess of emotions coming to a head within him, but it helps. For now, it helps.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WELL. So a lovely lovely artist on twitter, gearous, drew this: https://twitter.com/GEAROUS/status/800080713265475585 and I was Inspired. (they have been making RIDICULOUSLY GORGEOUS yoi art if you've somehow missed them pls check them out because holy crap)

“Yuuri. Are you sleeping?”

“If I was, you talking would’ve woken me up.”

He can’t see past the eye mask, but he can feel Victor shift to look at him, arms folded across his chest in one of those casual couple-y gestures he’s still not used to.

“I didn’t think you were.”

“Then why did you ask?” He starts to pull the mask away, but Victor stops him with a hand on his wrist.

“Leave it. Light will mess with you.”

“I’m not sleeping anyway,” he complains but subsides. Rather than settling in too, Victor starts tracing abstract whorls over his chest with his fingertips. “Did you actually want something?”

“Not really.” Yuuri rolls his eyes, not that Victor can see. “Well...maybe.”

He can hear the cheeky playfulness in Victor’s voice but he’s still not prepared for having his nipple pinched. Hard. Yuuri gasps, fumbling for the eyemask again. But again, Victor stops him.

“Won’t it be more fun to keep it on?” His fingers slip down Yuuri’s cheek, catching on his lips and then disappearing. “If you want, of course.”

He’s pretty sure he vastly prefers when he can see, but somehow, admitting how much it gets him off just to watch Victor doing things is utterly mortifying. Besides, not like he really has enough experience yet to say for sure.

“You’re blushing. You’re already thinking something naughty, aren’t you?” Before he can protest, Victor nudges his thigh between his legs, pulling the blanket against his dick. “Tell me.”

“I’m thinking that this is doing the opposite of helping me sleep.”

“You’ll be sleepy after, won’t you?” Victor squeezes his nipple again, lazily rolling it between his fingers. “Yuuri...let me help you relax.”

He exhales slowly. Not like he can pretend it hasn’t been hovering at the back of his mind since Victor practically threw him into bed, and now, with Victor’s free hand stealing down to cup his dick through the blanket, now, the idea is highly appealing. Yuuri reaches down, blindly gathering Victor up into a kiss, languid and sticky-sweet and Victor’s fingers rubbing his growing erection through the rude separation of fabric.

He tips his head back to break the kiss with a light puff of air. “Okay. Okay...fuck me, Victor.”

“What, really?” Victor’s voice is too loud and blithe and Yuuri’s suddenly glad he _can’t_ see. “I mean, you said you’d think about it, but…”

“I didn’t mean…! I just thought you’d make fun of me if I said something like ‘make love’.”

“I would have.”

Yuuri grumbles, covering his face with his hands.

Victor strokes his side, nudging the blanket down. “That aside, do you want to? Though I have things I’d like to do before we get there.”

He’s really hoping the embarrassment level of sex will go down sometime soon. And yet there’s a burr in Victor’s voice and the care with which he pets him that make it far too easy to agree, to this or any number of things. And he can’t deny that he’s curious.

“Yes.”

Victor pushes up enough to kiss the side of his neck. “Yes what?”

He makes a faintly disgusted noise. And yet, and yet, his hands are stealing down to pull at Victor’s shirt, he’s tipping his head out of the way in mute encouragement of Victor’s sucking kisses. “Fuck me,” he breathes out.

Victor hums a pleased noise, drawing up until Yuuri can feel his breath on his face. And then slowly, slowly sinking into a kiss and Victor’s lips are wet now, pressing open against his own and sharing that wetness. With a sigh, Victor sits back on one of Yuuri’s thighs, palms smoothing down over his body and pulling the blanket with them until it’s rumpled around his hips.

He waits, eyes flicking around despite their cover. Yuuri starts to wonder if Victor has gotten out his phone or something, and he’s on the verge of peeking when Victor sets two fingers over his solar plexus. They slide down, down, past the dip of his navel, then swing out to his left and are gone.

He can’t help raising an eyebrow, not that Victor can see; perhaps he’s missing something, but this doesn’t seem especially sexy. Victor shifts around, kneeling between his legs and leaning over him. A thumb presses into his hip, fingers squeezing through the blanket, and then they’re gone. Then the other side, the pads of Victor’s fingers scraping lightly down his ribs and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s still trying to decide whether he likes the sensation when lips close on his nipple. He stutters in a breath through his nose, back arching when Victor pulls away. Before he can feel the lack too keenly, teeth graze just under the bow of his ribs, a heavy kiss but not lingering quite long enough to leave a mark before he disappears again.

Victor’s fingertips drift over his skin, almost like skaters tracing arcs across the ice. Instead of jumps, punctuated by the hot press of his lips, sucking at his skin until Yuuri desperately hopes he’ll be able to get dressed away from the other skaters.

It strikes him that Victor’s taking his time.

Not like the times before had been particularly rushed, but right now, he has the distinct feeling that Victor’s…lingering. Enjoying him in some way that is so much more heady and mortifying than just getting each other off. There’s a peculiar selfishness to it, and yet it’s sweetness nonetheless, Victor humming appreciation against his pec and caressing his side. His hair brushes over Yuuri’s skin as he tips his head, and Yuuri can tell he’s looking down the length of their bodies, another light groan dripping from his throat.

He’s ready for the lips on his stomach but not for the hand on his cock. Yuuri gasps out a rough noise followed by a stuttered inhale as Victor scrapes his teeth over his nipple, squeezing him lightly through his boxer-briefs. Unbidden, his arms come up, finding Victor’s shoulders, one hand sliding around the back of his neck.

“That’s cheating.” Victor smooches under his jaw, then nips his throat. “Then again, maybe you have an opinion on where you’d like me to go next…?”

His cheeks warm but he pushes Victor firmly down.

He chuckles, kicking the blanket down as he slides back and then pressing a kiss just below his navel. “Alright, then. But I’m not done toying with you just yet.”

It shoots a bolt of unease through him, and Yuuri’s glad of the mask covering his expression. Not something he wants to unpack here and now.

But as much of an airhead as Victor is, he’s not unobservant. Sitting back, he smooths his hands up the outside of Yuuri’s thighs. “Slow down, okay? Relax.”

Without thinking, he snaps out, “So make me,” and it comes out far too much challenge and he’d feel ashamed if not for the palpable delight from Victor.

“I will.”

Victor curls over him, mouthing the end of his dick through cotton. Yuuri curves his hips up but Victor’s gone again, tugging the waistband down enough to kiss the dent of his hip. He rolls his shoulder up, nudging against Yuuri, and he wishes he could see, watch the graceful artistry of Victor’s body. But at least he has touch, fingers slipping under the collar of Victor’s shirt and running through his hair and tugging him where he wants to go only to have Victor duck out of his hold and kiss his palm instead. But with a soft laugh, Victor dips down to suck wetness at the base of Yuuri’s dick, his breath cooling it as he pulls back.

But this time it’s to engulf the head of his dick in his mouth, fingers hooked in the waistband of Yuuri’s underwear. Breath breaks out of Yuuri’s throat and he squeezes Victor’s shoulder, hips twitching up. Victor moves with him, then down, mouth pinching fabric gently along the underside of his dick. He finishes with an affectionate nuzzle, then sways forward to bite the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down before smushing his face against Yuuri’s belly. He fits his hand around Yuuri’s dick, rubbing absently as he kisses him.

Yuuri starts to push his underwear off, wriggling his hips, but Victor stops him, pushing him back down on the bed. He slips his hand under to squeeze Yuuri’s ass, dotting kisses over his skin and then taking his dick in his mouth again. His tongue presses plush against the underside, heat to heat and want to want and Victor’s hand darting up to knead his pec, pinch his nipple. Yuuri makes a raw noise, hips curving up again, and this time, Victor takes him deeper with a groan.

He pulls off with a rough pant, then mumbles something unintelligible to himself. Still playing with Yuuri’s nipple, he tugs his underwear down enough to release his dick. Yuuri bangs his head back against the pillow, breath shuddering out of him and then breaking on a cry when Victor finally gives him the full softness of his mouth. Yuuri flings an arm across his face, mouth working but mercifully silent. Not Victor, groaning with his tongue laving up Yuuri’s length with each bob of his head. He wedges his hand under Yuuri’s ass again, thumb pressing steadily until Yuuri digs his heels into the bed, hauling on the back of Victor’s shirt.

“Victor…” He can’t even tell how much of it’s protest and how much is demand. “I’m gonna… If you keep…I’m gonna…” He grits his teeth, almost awed at how well Victor wound him up, leaving him still rocking his hips even when he stops touching him.

Victor’s silent for a moment. Then licks a hot line up his dick, leaving Yuuri slapping his hand over his mouth. “I’ll stop, if you insist.” He can practically _hear_ Victor’s self-satisfied smirk, but he can’t hold it against him right now, just pulls on his sleeve and the back of his shirt.

“Fuck me.” He can feel Victor’s eyes on him, feel his hunger, clothing Yuuri in prickly heat and he wants to say the words again just to feel the jolt of adrenaline and hear Victor’s sharp inhale. “Uh, how should I…”

“Let me…”

He’s all too willing to let himself be rolled on his front, urged up on hands and knees. And then Victor’s behind him and hooking his fingers in the waistband of his boxer-briefs and pulling them the rest of the way down over his hips with excruciating slowness to fall around his knees.

“Yuuri, you look beautiful like this.”

Yuuri gropes for the pillow, dragging it over so he can shove his face against it. Victor huffs out a quiet laugh and dips in to kiss just beside the base of his spine. Again, again, moving lower and his hand coming up to squeeze Yuuri’s ass.

“Wh-what’re you doing?”

“Nothing?” He can almost feel Victor’s perplexed look. “I promise you, if I’m feeling like sticking my tongue in your ass, I’ll let you know ahead of time.”

Yuuri flinches, snatching the pillow up over his head with an aggravated noise.

“Yuuri, relax.” Victor drapes himself over him, nuzzling his back. “Do you want to stop?”

After a second, he shakes his head slowly. “No.”

“Good, that’s good.” Victor kisses his skin, his hard-on nudging against the back of one thigh. “Oh, did we leave the lube here the other night?”

Yuuri wants to roll his eyes at his flippant tone but he points at the bedside table with an only slightly shaky hand.

“Great!” Victor’s weight shifts across the bed, there’s the roll of the drawer, and then he returns. Yuuri gathers the pillow against his face, trying his best to loosen his tensed muscles.

After a second, Victor rests his hand on the small of his back. He pushes it up his spine, broad and slow and comforting and not quite enough. Yuuri shoves himself up, twisting and grabbing for Victor, who throws his arms around him, pulling him back against his body.

He lays a gentle kiss on the back of Yuuri’s shoulder, then rests his cheek there, silent for a while. “I promise you, it’s lots of fun. And if it’s not, we stop.”

Yuuri clings to his arm and the handful of pants he’d grabbed.

_How do I tell you that’s not what this means? I never asked you to stop._

He’s frustrated and exhausted and aching to be touched and he wishes Victor would just _get_ it, but he is, as always, off on his own planet.

Yuuri stays in that awkward twist for a breath longer, then slowly uncurls, fingertips dragging over Victor’s hips until he can grope his hard-on. He lets himself be pulled back flush against him, sliding his other hand up, around, to the back of his neck.

Victor kisses his neck, exhaling heavily against his skin, then makes his way down his shoulder with quick touches of lips. Yuuri lets his head loll back against the opposite shoulder, pushing his fingers up into Victor’s hair. One of Victor’s arms curls tight across his stomach, but the other, the other hand steals down to wrap around his dick and he hadn’t realised Victor’d opened the lube already and it’s warm from his hand and Yuuri chokes on a cry, hips snapping forward and something pulling so deliciously tight inside him. Victor kisses him over and over, timing his strokes to Yuuri’s own leisurely rubbing.

Slowly, slowly, he drops forward, only sliding his hand from Victor’s neck in time to catch himself. Victor curves over him, kissing between his shoulderblades and then just leaning heavily on him as he tugs on Yuuri’s cock. And then the arm at his waist is gone and Victor’s fumbling around with something near their legs, something that leaves a cool smear on his thigh when it falls over. Yuuri grabs Victor’s jeans again but makes himself tilt his hips back in what he hopes is a clear go-ahead.

Victor’s nose and forehead are squashed against his back, his mouth open on a quiet pant. He slides his fingers along Yuuri’s cleft, gradually dragging his fingers up and in and Yuuri tilts his hips with the movement and being embarrassed about _that_ gives him something to focus on until Victor’s finger is pressing into him. Despite his intentions, Yuuri grabs the pillow against his face again.

They’ve done this much before, Victor with him backed against the bedroom wall and his leg hauled over his shoulder where he kneels with Yuuri’s dick in his mouth, or Yuuri himself feeling the bright heat inside of Victor’s body and watching in awe as he pulled such beautiful noises from his lover’s throat. He _knows_ it’ll feel good, but it’s still embarrassing, and he can’t help thinking that a single finger will do little to prepare him and the thought sets him shivering and muffling a tight noise in the pillow.

Victor croons something reassuring into his skin, slipping back into his mother tongue with a ragged dreaminess that sets Yuuri aflame. He draws his finger almost out, pushing back in with a sigh of breath and his hand leaving Yuuri’s dick to smear up his stomach.

He rubs his cheek against Yuuri’s skin, then whispers, “I don’t want you coming before I’ve been inside you.”

Yuuri shudders, exhaling softly into the hot air below his body. Somehow, somehow, he finds himself squirming his hips, trying to find how to move to take Victor deeper. But Victor’s retreating, retreating, and Yuuri waits in nervous suspension until he feels two fingers take its place.

Victor spreads him open slowly, kisses and murmured encouragement pressed into his skin and his free hand stroking heavily up Yuuri’s stomach and chest, up to squeeze a nipple and then back down. He can’t stay still, trying to angle his hips just _so_ , but Victor always manages to keep just shy of that exquisite point. He knows he’s toying with him, and part of him resents it, but part of him luxuriates in that feeling of _not enough_ because it is also _not yet_. And he knows that Victor tortures himself with the slowness just as much; Yuuri can feel the erratic, hungry movement of his hips, not quite close enough to grind.

With one last groaning kiss, Victor throws himself back, palm resting warm and heavy on Yuuri’s tailbone. “Yuuri...I’m going to start. You okay?”

 _Can you stop asking and just trust what I’m showing you?_ Though if he’s fair, he’s still got his face buried in the pillow. Yuuri pushes himself up on his palms, letting his head loll to the side, wanting Victor’s eyes even if he can’t see them, and nods twice.

Victor exhales slowly, stroking his hands up his thighs and curving over to press a kiss to the back of one hip. There’s the sound of fabric, his zipper, and it takes everything he has not to hide again but he stays still, somehow, only spreading his legs.

“Mm. Not like that.” Victor shifts so his knees are either side of Yuuri’s calves, squeezing in until Yuuri moves. “Good. It’ll be easier for you. I want to make you relax.”

There’s a fundamental selfishness to it that irks Yuuri but before he can think too much about it, Victor’s rubbing his slick cock against his ass. Gently, gently, he parts him with one hand, guiding himself to his hole with the other and then slipping it under to press against his perineum in a way that makes Yuuri catch his breath. And he can’t seem to release it, just holds it tight in the center of his chest as Victor eases inside, rubbing wet fingers against his thin skin.

 _Fucking hell, was it always this big?_ Maybe the size isn’t that much bigger, but it feels completely different from fingers, especially with the trembling impatience he can feel in each rock of Victor’s hips.

“Yuuri...relax…”

He grits his teeth, snapping a hand back to clench on the fabric crumpled around Victor’s thighs and haul him forward.

Victor’s strangled noise is reward enough to make up for the ache he’s going to regret later. But then, then, Victor collapses on him like he was the one seeking support, arms slapping around Yuuri’s waist and his hips dragging back just _so_ and it’s Yuuri’s turn to cry out. Victor hums warmly, opening his mouth into a rich burr of heat against his skin and his hips rolling forwards and stretching Yuuri in an agony of wanting to get his hands on him, wanting to see him. Yuuri twists the hand still tangled in Victor’s jeans, pulling him forward with each thrust. He drops down with his face in the crook of his elbow, then just smushes his cheek into the pillow so he can reach back, rake his hand up Victor’s thigh, higher and higher until he can’t reach and then pushing down to catch on his pants.

Victor pushes himself up, stilling with his hips pulled back against Yuuri’s urging. “You look so gorgeous like that,” he whispers, and there’s no tone of calculated reassurance to it for once, just something hushed that sets Yuuri aflame and yet feels so deeply _right_. Victor traces adoring fingers over his back, down his ass, gripping his hips with gentle firmness and pushing him forward until he nearly slips out before bringing them back together again with a wet noise. “Yuuri…”

Suddenly, he yanks the pillow out from under Yuuri.

“Hey…!” Before he can summon a proper objection, he feels it brush against his stomach, his dick.

“Slide down a little.” Victor pulls out in one smooth movement, then Yuuri feels him walk back on the bed. He pushes himself back, the sheet wrinkling under his knees, then waits for whatever new idea Victor’s got now.

And waits.

Abruptly, Victor launches himself down beside him. His arms tangle around Yuuri’s shoulders and pull him down, over, into a gasp and slide of lips and Victor’s chest such a sweet landing and Yuuri doesn’t ever want to be let go. Victor pushes him up, fumbling the mask off his face and the dimness of the room is blinding or maybe it’s just Victor himself and his adoring expression swimming into focus.

His fingers graze down from Yuuri’s temple and over his cheek. “How come I can’t watch you and touch you and kiss you all at once?”

Yuuri can’t quite summon a response so he just tucks his face against the curve of Victor’s neck. His dick is squashed awkwardly against Victor’s hip, his body twisted but not enough, not enough of their skin pressed together.

“Oh! Wait! Mirrors…”

Yuuri flinches, then lifts his head with a put-upon sigh. “If you’re going to do something like that, can I be wearing the blindfold again?”

Victor raises an eyebrow at him. “You like wearing it that much?” Before he can answer, Victor tugs him back down, kissing tender and full of heat and Yuuri’s hand stealing down to squeeze the base of Victor’s cock and Victor groaning deeply into his mouth.

Yuuri tilts his head enough to whisper against Victor’s skin, “If you want me to have time to sleep, then stop dicking around.”

Victor snorts an inelegant laugh and starts to sit up. He pauses, smiling that silly, genuine smile, and slips the eye mask back into place, finishing with a quick peck on the tip of Yuuri’s nose.

Blind again, he raises himself back on hands and knees. He can feel Victor returning behind him, then hear him rustling fabric. The pillow brushes against his quads, and while Yuuri’s still wondering about that, Victor’s hand curls around his dick with a fresh pump of lube, ripping a short exhale out of him.

Victor leans over him, jerking him off languidly and his other hand pushing just over Yuuri’s ass. “We’re going to make a mess,” he purrs, almost a threat. “Lie down.”

Yuuri spills down on the sheet, curling one fist against the warm fabric where Victor’s head had just rested and reaching back with the other hand. Victor is there, though, immediate against his back and either side of his legs and somewhere in the past few seconds he’s lost his pants entirely and so Yuuri has only his shirt to grab onto. Victor kisses his nape, groping and fumbling between them impatiently. Yuuri tilts his hips back, back, his dick dragging, cramped between the bed and his stomach and yet so good, so good. With a quiet exhale and a small jerk of his hips, Victor pushes into him again.

This time is better. Maybe it’s the angle, maybe he’s more relaxed, maybe it’s just the gloriousness of Victor’s skin against his own, bearing him down, and his lips smearing on his shoulder with purposeless abandon. Yuuri pushes his palm down Victor’s side, somewhere between petting and grabbing. His hips twitch back with each short thrust, and he’s starting to love the slick feel of it, the intrusion that now feels more like a completion.

Their bodies move together as if to a slow beat, unheard but reverberating through them. Victor’s hair tickles over his skin and he pants tightly, one arm curling up under Yuuri’s shoulder as if it were possible to pull them closer. Yuuri turns his head, seeking that impossible closeness too, and Victor’s lips brush the back of his jaw, close on the lobe of his ear.

Soft, soft, a rich moan, Victor murmurs, “We’re both of us deep inside each other, aren’t we?” He catches Yuuri’s ear in his teeth, quick swipe of tongue and then gone and wedging his hand up to scrape fingertips down Yuuri’s throat.

He can’t think of an answer and so he just grabs Victor’s fingers and pushes them between his lips.

“Shit, shi… Yuuri…” Victor tucks his face against his shoulder for a second and it gives him a rush of triumph because even here, he can surprise Victor. “Yuuri...drop your hips…”

The words are vague but Victor’s fingers pressing powerfully into his ass aren’t and the angle shifts so that each flick back of Victor’s hips drags his dick over his prostate. Yuuri chokes, biting down unintentionally on the fingers lagging down his tongue.

“Sorr--” he starts, but he’s cut off by Victor’s thick chuckle.

“I _love_ seeing you like this. Love _making_ you like this.” He mouths the edge of his ear, fingers thrusting deeper into his mouth. “Yuuri… I wanna feel you come.”

All he can summon in response is a stuttering groan and a convulsive clench of his fingers on Victor’s hip. He can’t stay entirely still, tight little movements to fuck against the pillow under him. Victor hugs him, and he’s on him, around him, inside him, singing through his blood and on the air he breathes in and greedily pinching a nipple like even now, even now, he’s not satisfied with how artfully he’s playing Yuuri’s body.

_But I know what you want, I know the chord you’re hungry for._

He bites down on the side of Victor’s knuckle, his own voice vibrating back against his lips. Victor moans into his shoulder, rolling his nipple between his fingers and then just grabbing him tight.

Sometimes, it’s like a rope pulling tight until it snaps. Others, it’s like holding himself at the edge of a cliff and then letting himself spill down that edge, a cascade of pleasure washing him into a freefall drop that seems like it’ll never end. He thinks he cries out, and he’d be embarrassed if he could but he’s protected in the darkness over his eyes and in Victor whispering breathless Russian into his ear.

He melts into the come down, but Victor still hovers imperative in his consciousness. With a rough pant, he yanks on a fistful of Victor’s shirt.

_Now, you come for me._

Victor groans, vibrating at the base of his skull, and wedges his hand down to grab Yuuri’s hip. Yuuri tilts his hips back, letting him slide deeper again with a stuttering inhale. He hooks his feet around Victor’s calves, pulling flush against him with each thrust. There’s stickiness under him and a sticky-warm feeling in his stomach and spreading through his limbs like sleepy molasses but he’s intent on this one thing, this one last thing, on the strangled noise Victor makes and the shuddering roll of his hips and a sudden heat inside him that maybe he half imagines but he groans with it anyway. Victor has both arms nearly wedged under him, their bodies entangled and ensnared so completely and Yuuri never wants to let go.

Yuuri tips his head back, leaning the edge of his jaw against the top of Victor’s head until their breathing evens out. With a last hum of sound, Victor pulls out, manhandling him over and then collapsing on top of him with a sated sigh. Yuuri combs his fingers through Victor’s hair, smiling when he turns his head enough to kiss his chest.

In a couple hours, he knows anxiety will reach its cold tendrils up to pierce through him again. But here, now, he feels warm and content. And loved, a sensation he’s learning to recognise better, this small bubble of quiet and affection that they can create together out of frantic movement and sharper emotions.

Tugging the mask up enough that he can peek, he strokes Victor’s hair back from his forehead, over his ear. “Thank you,” he sighs, letting the mask fall and himself slide down into sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> @ these two pls give that pillowcase a rinse before housekeeping has to deal with it


End file.
